W.E.B. Griffin - The Corps VII - Behind the Lines

"I didn't think full bull colonels, Colonel, were supposed to swear at inno-cent junior officers like me," McCoy said piously.

"Speaking of sonsofbitches," Pickering said, having decided that it was time to get to what he'd come to tell McCoy. He waited until both Stecker and McCoy were looking at him, and then went on.

"I ran into Phil DePress," he said. "And learned from him that Fertig is a light bird, or was, before he promoted himself."

"How does that make Phil a sonofabitch?" Stecker asked.

"The sonofabitch is the unnamed brigadier general, Army type, on El Su-premo's staff who certainly knew this and elected not to tell me."

"Why not, General?" McCoy asked.

"Aside from his being an all-around sonofabitch, you mean? Here's what I'm thinking. For one thing, Fertig, who came on active duty as a captain, was twice promoted for outstanding performance. By whom? If not by El Supremo himself, then by somebody high up in the palace guard. Two promotions-in what, six months?-means that he was doing an outstanding job."

McCoy nodded, and made a motion of his hand toward Colonel Stecker. The meaning was obvious. Here's the proof of what you just said: When the 1st Marine Division landed on Guadalcanal, Stecker landed on Tulagi-across the channel from Guadalcanal-as a major, commanding 2nd Battalion, Fifth Marines. Shortly after that, he was promoted to lieutenant colonel on Guadal-canal. And earlier today, there was a Special Channel Personal message to Pickering from the Secretary of the Navy. A paragraph of that informed him that Stecker was shortly going to be transferred to Washington, and was pro-moted to full colonel.

Colonel Stecker took McCoy's meaning, and grew uncomfortable. His promotion and transfer meant that he would not be going into the Philippines. Two things were wrong with that. Personally, he'd rather go to the Philippines than to Washington. He thought he might be of some genuine use there; he wasn't at all sure that would be true in Washington. And secondly, although he would have been happy to publicly announce that Ken McCoy was one hell of a Marine officer, he thought that by sending him in alone to the Philippines, Pickering was placing more responsibility on his shoulders than he should re-ally ask of a twenty-two-year-old.

Pickering nodded. "Precisely," he said. "And Fertig being an outstanding officer does not fit in with the picture El Supremo, and especially Willoughby, want to paint of him now."

"You've lost me, Flem," Stecker said.

"It is their official position that setting up guerrilla activities in the Philip-pines is impossible. Unless, of course, they set them up, at some unspecified time in the future. And here comes this guy, a reservist, who announces that he has recruited people, set up U.S. Forces in the Philippines, and appointed him-self as commanding general; then says that as soon as we can get him the materiel to do it with, he will commence guerrilla activities against the Japa-nese. Since it wasn't their idea, obviously it's bad, and so is this guy. And if he succeeds, he will make Willoughby, and by inference El Supremo himself, look foolish."

"You're not suggesting they hope Fertig will fail?" Stecker asked.

"I think that's a possibility, Jack, that we should keep in mind," Pickering said.

"Did you call Willoughby on this?" Stecker asked.

"You bet I did. He vaguely remembers hearing something about Fertig getting promoted to major, but that the records have of course been lost, and officially, they have to consider him as still being a captain."

"Christ," McCoy said in disgust.

"A captain who appoints himself commanding general of anything looks like somebody who may not be playing with a full deck," Pickering said. "Somebody you don't pay a lot of attention to, or more importantly, send arms and ammunition to. It's a hell of a lot different when the fellow is a highly regarded lieutenant colonel."

"According to Phil DePress, Fertig is a good officer," Stecker said. "And I'm sure he's told Willoughby that," Pickering replied. "Wil-loughby has selective hearing; he doesn't hear what he doesn't want to hear. But what really bothers me is wondering what else they haven't told me."

"Now I really wish I was going with McCoy," Stecker said. "Particularly with the silver chickens on my collar."

"You know that's out of the question, Jack," Pickering said. "For the sake of argument, let's say McCoy finds Fertig and decides he's not a lunatic and can do what he says he can do. If they're ignoring what DePress-one of their own-tells them about Fertig, what makes you think they'll listen to McCoy? 'On such an important matter as this, we can't trust the judgment of a Marine lieutenant.'

"That's pretty simple, Jack," Pickering said. "I trust McCoy's judgment. And I'm not going to run his report of whatever he finds in the Philippines past Willoughby and company and give them a chance to snipe at it. My recommen-dation goes right to Frank Knox, who will lay it on Admiral Leahy's desk. Leahy trusts Knox, Knox trusts me, and I trust McCoy. So will the President, I think, once he learns-as 1 intend that he will-that the Killer was with Roose-velt's son on the Makin Island raid."

Stecker smiled. "OK. But you're not supposed to call him that, you know," he said.

"Sorry, Ken," Pickering said.

"No offense taken, Sir," McCoy said, not very convincingly. "OK, we're getting down the line. I just told Pluto to message Nimitz at Pearl Harbor asking for the submarine Narwhal. I think he'll give it to us. I figure ten days, two weeks on the outside, before we get it." Both Stecker and McCoy nodded.

"Is there anything else you think you need, Ken? I'm prepared to override the Colonel here if you really want to take a Garand with you."

"No, he's right," McCoy said. "If we're going to equip the Filipinos with carbines, that's what the Americans should carry. And with a little bit of luck, I won't have to shoot anybody anyway."

"I'm glad you brought that up, Ken," Pickering said. "You're not being sent to shoot at the Japanese. I want your honest assessment of Colonel Fertig, and his potential. If you get yourself killed..."

"I'll do my very best not to, Sir."

"Back to the original question. Is there anything else you would like to take with you?" Pickering saw McCoy's eyes light up momentarily, but he said nothing. "What, Ken? If I can get it for you, it's yours."

"How about a gunnery sergeant?"

"Anyone in particular?"

"We served together in China, working for Banning. He was on the Makin Island raid. I saw him on Guadalcanal. He was running the weapons shop for VMF-229"-Marine Fighter Squadron 229. "He's an Old Breed Marine. Speaks Spanish, two or three kinds of Chinese, and even a little Japanese. I think he'd be useful. His name is Zimmerman."

What the hell is a man who speaks Spanish, Chinese, and Japanese doing repairing weapons? Pickering thought, more than a little angrily.

"Give me his full name and his serial number, if you've got it, and I'll get right on it," he said, and then had a second thought. "Ken, you're sure he'd volunteer for something like you're going to be doing?"

McCoy smiled at him. Tolerantly, Pickering thought. I just asked a stupid question, and this young man is smiling tolerantly at me.

"He's an Old Breed Marine, General," McCoy said. "Old Breed Marines don't volunteer for anything. They go where they're told to go, and do what they're told to do."

"I stand corrected, Mr. McCoy," Pickering said. "And if you and this other Old Breed Marine here can get those weapons back together in the next hour or so, I will make amends by taking the both of you out to dinner."

[TWO]

Office of the Assistant Chief of Staff G-l

Headquarters, United States Marine Corps

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